Genim
by thegremlin69
Summary: An AU Sterek version of Mulan using the characters from Teen Wolf
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer

The characters from Teen Wolf and the story of Mulan do not belong to me. Only this specific writing is my own creation. I generate no money from the writing of this story and only gain the enjoyment of writing and using these characters for my own fun times.

Characters:

Mulan: Stiles

Shang: Derek

Ling: Scott

Yao: Jackson

Chien-Po: Danny

Mushu: Lydia

Shan Yu: Alpha pack

Chi Fu: Peter Hale

Prompt: Based on a prompt that can be found here - post/23996260548/fic-request-idea

Universe:

In this universe, werewolves are a common part of society, just another race really, though because of their superior strength and quick movement there are packs that can only be subdued by a small amount of specially trained people. Stiles is known as gay to his family and the town so there are no sexuality issues. It is also known that Alpha's can impregnate their mates no matter their gender due to survival needs of the Alpha's line.

Stiles' morning had been a rush of epic proportions to prepare himself for the manufactured day ahead for himself and his father. Today was the day of Stiles' entrance exam to the police academy of Beacon Hills. The same organisation his father, the Sherriff, was in charge of directing and training cadets. Being a well-known and respected part of the community meant that Stiles had to impress his father, not embarrass himself or disgrace the Stilinski name which held the prestige of many long and successful careers in law enforcement. Stiles and his father were concerned though, due to Stiles' ADHD, constant and spastic word vomit and his inability to develop muscles or body mass of any kind; even though Stiles' capability to consume unhealthy amounts of curly fries was legendary in the small town. What Stiles lacked in his physical prowess abilities, he more than made up for in his capability to con, charm and squirm his way out of any hairy situations. Unlike many other young boys of Beacon Hills, he relied on his smarts to do him well and honour his father.

The day began like any other when Stiles woke in a jerk, sitting up in alarm when his puppy Isaac ran into Stiles' messy bedroom and jumped on his rumpled bed in cute excitement. Stiles knew he had to move fast to get dressed, do his chores and be on time for his interview with Sergeant Erica Reyes, his first obstacle to achieve his goal of becoming a policeman; though Stiles wanted to be a werewolf conservationist, his father's wishes meant more to him. Stiles ran down the stairs two at a time, uniform pants undone and shirt hanging unbuttoned from his slim shoulders. He leaped to the floor and scurried into the kitchen and grabbed the toast his calm and stray father held out to him as he ran past. He ran past his dad to the outside and side to the bins, Isaac trailing after him a little more sedately. Stiles stopped by the side of the unkempt, humble two-storey Stilinski house to grab onto the garbage bin to drag it to the edge of the curb for garbage collection. As he walked back up the path to his car in the driveway, he absentmindedly bent down to scratch Isaac behind his floppy chocolate ears as he power walked to and unlocked his beloved jeep. She may be old but she was so very reliable and Stiles' only companion on his many adventures through the Beacon Hills woods. He started and revved his engine, sighing blissfully when she started without a hiccup.

Stiles put the jeep into reverse, making sure that Isaac was safely on the porch and no one was around to drive over. Stiles quickly drove through his neighbourhood (in the speed limit of course), seeing a lot of his colleagues and their families saying 'goodbye' and 'good luck' to each other. Eventually, Stiles drove on to the main street of Beacon Hills which led directly to the police station where the interviews were to be conducted.

Five minutes later Stiles finally arrived at the station's car park and hastily parked, turned off the engine and exited his jeep. He quickened his step as he could see the other cadets already formed into a line and at attention to greet Sergeant Reyes when she arrived. The last young man, Stiles of course, stumbled his way to the end of the row and only had to wait a few seconds before Sergeant Reyes thrust her blonde headed and hot body through the double doors that led to what Stiles assumed to be the torture he could only endure for his beloved father.

"Cadets welcome. First off, Stiles Stilinski is to be marked as three minutes late." Erica said in a tone of superiority. Stiles scoffed under his breath in a sheepish way, confused about how she'd know that if she was inside the sparsely windowed and drab police station. "Follow me, Stilinski." With that, Erica spun on her assigned military-style uniform boots to march steadily into the oppressing building.

Stiles followed Erica into what seemed to be an impersonal interrogation room that Stiles found suffocating and hard for him to think logically; even though a hyped state was natural for him, high stress situations made his condition about ten times worse.

Stiles flailed out of his thoughts at the loud and obnoxious sound of Sergeant Reyes clearing her throat to gain his attention.

"I mean, what?" Stiles stuttered as he racked his brain to guess at a good answer to what she might have been asking or saying to him.

"Doesn't concentrate. I said, can you recite the Miranda Rights?" Sergeant Reyes raised her obsessively perfectly waxed and shaped eyebrows in a mocking challenge to him as if to say, 'can you at least get this right you puny man or are you going to make a fool of yourself?'

Stiles was not one to disappoint anyone; except his whole family hat is.

"You have the right to remain silent. and them..um...like uh...You have the right to...remain an attorney. And...if you do not have one or can't afford one, a cheap one will be appointed to you. You dont have the right to remain silent and everything you say will be used against you to you condemn you in a court of justice."

Stiles' face turned bright red, even his slightly larger than average ears, after he finished what he thought his grandfather would consider a complete massacre and annihilation of the Miranda Rights.

Sergeant Reyes looked at him intently before she curtly stated, "That is all that l need. You may leave now. I don't need to tell you of the embarrassment you will receive from having failed this interview."

Stunned, Stiles slowly stood from the cold chair and somehow summoned the strength to turn, leave the room and, as what Sergeant Reyes had said to him sunk in, he ran with unco-ordinated limbs to his jeeps, unlocked it and climbed inside. He sat in his car, string out of his windscreen at the imposing marvel of the police station and took quick panicked breaths as he felt the start of the worst panic attack he'd had since his mum died. Stiles didn't want to think about how he'd tell his father their long history of police officers would finish with him, how his ineptitude had caused him major personal embarrassment and that he would never be able to look his father in the eyes again without thinking of his failure of epic proportions. He started the car feeling dead inside and sluggish like a loser in the zombie apocalypse; which all things considered, would a better situation than having to go back to his father and tell him the devastating news.

Feeling like a bullet stuck in slow-mo, Stiles drove distractedly and somehow managed to deliver him and the jeep home safely. Stiles sat there for unknown minutes, or hours, until he heard Isaac's little puppy claws scraping against the jeep, trying to get him to exit the jeep and give him a cuddle. In order to save his jeep any further damage, Stiles grumbled and hesitantly exited his only means of escape to somewhere other than here. Stiles tripped a total of three times before he made it to the front door, hesitantly opened the door and was confronted with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on his dad's face since Stiles told him that he was gay and couldn't give him grandkids on a cop's salary with surrogacy.

His dad moved to the kitchen table, leant over the worn heirloom wooden chairs and hung his head. Deciding that his dad needed some space, Stiles picked up Isaac and started to carry him outside to the backyard along the main path, past the giant koi pond that had belonged to his mother, and to his favourite spot to go to when he was upset. The aged cherry tree stood grandly in the centre of their green and spacious backyard, a great imposing figure in the lives of the surviving Stilinski men's lives. Nestled underneath the grandiose tree was the pristine white tombstone that held the only sold memory Stiles had of his mother. Reverently, Stiles slid to the ground, Isaac beside him to converse with his mother. His mother's name, Georga Stilinski, was delicately engraved on the precious stone and he lovingly ran his fingers over the words in a caress.

"Mum, today I've failed Dad…again. I can't understand why l keep screwing up. This was something he really wanted for me for stability, but you know my mind goes elsewhere; to wolves and running and pack mates. I don't understand why he can't just let me do what l want. Maybe l should try harder to show him what l really want and what l am specifically good at. Maybe then he'd understand." Isaac nestled into his side as he said goodbye to his mum and sat in peace in the presence of his mum and the cherry tree.

Isaac's head popped up as he herd the elder Stilinski's approach from behind them. John sat on the ground beside his son and said, "These flowers were the favourite of your mother's. She'd sit out here and wait for every single flower to bloom. She would say, 'even the last flower to bloom has the chance to grow even more beautiful than the rest.' I remember she'd always take that flower and put it in your nursery." Stiles looked in awe at his father as he was enraptured by this new story of his mother.

"You Stiles, my only son, are that blossom that will in time bloom above all the others. Your happiness is what matters to me most, Genim." John said as he turned and hugged his son tightly to his chest.

The moment was ruined as his father's pager alerted him that he was needed at the Beacon Hills police station for an emergency. As the Sherriff he was frequently called in but as his dad read the alert, his face projected a far greater fear, uncertainty and determination that Stiles had ever seen on his father's stoic face.

NB. Maybe l should make Sherriff Stilinski retired due to a gunshot, or even a werewolf wound, and he gets called in due to his expertise in the area of aggressive werewolf alphas? What does my audience think? It won't be changed unless l get enough opinions, so give me yours!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer

The characters from Teen Wolf and the story of Mulan do not belong to me. Only this specific writing is my own creation. I generate no money from the writing of this story and only gain the enjoyment of writing and using these characters for my own fun times.

Characters:

Mulan: Stiles

Shang: Derek

Ling: Scott

Yao: Jackson

Chien-Po: Danny

Mushu: Lydia

Shan Yu: Alpha pack

Chi Fu: Peter Hale

Prompt: Based on a prompt that can be found here - post/23996260548/fic-request-idea

Universe:

In this universe, werewolves are a common part of society, just another race really, though because of their superior strength and quick movement there are packs that can only be subdued by a small amount of specially trained people. Stiles is known as gay to his family and the town so there are no sexuality issues. It is also known that Alpha's can impregnate their mates no matter their gender due to survival needs of the Alpha's line.

John Stilinski arrived at Beacon Hills in addition to Stiles trailing behind in his dad's footsteps. Stiles was sulking because his dad had dragged him back to the location of his ineptitude. John strode through the double doors and walked straight to the reception desk to as his secretary what the emergency call was about.

"Chris Argent is in your office, Sherriff." Nancy said as she looked nervously to the Sheriff's office behind her. The same office where Chris Argent, rogue werewolf hunter extraordinaire, killing machine of all bad wolves and defender of the Beacon Hills territory, was likely sitting in an old worn office chair opposite his dad's; which could only mean the worst of things.

"Dad, can l-" Stiles Started.

"No. Stay here while l talk to Mr Argent." Sheriff Stilinski interrupted with a stern, 'I'm serious' face. "And no eavesdropping. And no peeping through the windows." John added as he sent his son one last cautionary look before he confidently marched into his office.

Half an hour later, too long in Stiles' impatient opinion, the door to his dad's office finally opened and his visibly tired dad walked out, followed by Mr Argent who exited the building without a glance back to them.

"Dad?" Stiles asked tentatively.

"Not now, Stiles." John dismissed his son as he stood in the corridor deep in thought about the disturbing news delivered by Chris Argent given to him moments ago in his office and the silent suggested, more of a command really, given by his long time 'friend'.

"Dad, what's going on? Please tell me! Maybe l can help if it's got something to do with werewolves." Stiles grabbed his father's uniform jacket as he tried to get his attention and convince him to tell him what had happened.

"Stiles…" My Stilinski trailed off as he debated telling his son. "Argent told me that there's an alpha pack coming this way and he's asked me to stop them." Stiles looked stunned and was unable to vocalise how shocked, scared and determined to help he was.

"Let me go." Stiles stated as he straightened his shoulders, moved in front of the taller man and lifted his head to look the other in the eye. "Let me go. I know werewolves and their language. How they interact together. Maybe l could negotiate. Even their customs and attitudes against them."

"No Stiles. It's too dangerous. These guys are dangerous. I mean, killer dangerous. You don't even know how to punch someone properly. You could only hope that one of your flailing arms was lucky enough to hit someone." John chuckled slightly as he imagined his son trying to fight someone and then only winning by his opponent killing himself to escape Stiles' incessant chatting. He even dared to consider the words of his son.

"I'll get training! I know this new pack on the outskirts that has a really strong alpha that trains pups from other packs and-" Stiles stopped talking as his dad started to walk back to the car.

"No, son. He's too dangerous. Even if by some miracle you could convince this alpha to train you, the alpha pack together is too strong for a human; even other wolves. It takes a specialist, a hunter, to be able to bring down a pack like that." Sheriff Stilinski punctuated by unlocking the car and slammed the door after he situated himself in the driver's seat.

Stiles remained feeling stunned as he was driven back to their home in silence. He knew he had the ability to help his dad and his town. He could imagine the destruction and death that would befall his town if the alpha pack arrived and were allowed to run around freely and undisciplined. He imagined if he could actually succeed and what it would mean to his father and his families honour. Stiles Stilinski, defeater of Alpha's and friends of the common wolf. The town would celebrate his name instead of jeering behind his back.

As soon as they arrived home, Stilinski leaped out of the moving vehicle and ran, inconspicuously of course, up the stairs and into his room. He quickly shut the door as he crawled under his bed, also disturbing a napping Isaac as he was jostled on the mattress. Stiles finally emerged from under his bed dragging a tattered shoe box out with him. He focused his ears to his dad downstairs puttering around in his room to get ready for bed as it had somehow become very late in the afternoon. As soon as he heard all motion cease, which meant his dad was asleep, Stiles finally lifted off the lid of the box to rummage through the inside. Now, as Stiles was no ordinary boy, anyone who looked into the shoe box would have expected to find porn of some kind, but instead they would have found some of the most precious objects to Stiles.

He lifted out the manuals on werewolf behaviour he had printed and bought off the internet. This was followed by sheets of hot-to guides to living with wolves and even a print-out of werewolf male anatomy. This, of course, had nothing to do with the knots and everything to do with doing complete and thorough research on werewolves. The main thing he was looking for, however, was the last to be removed and extracted in a reverent nature. It was a detailed map of Beacon Hills which meticulously detailed the previous spots of the wolves circling the area as they migrated with the seasons. Even though they never left the cities' borders and Beacon Hills wasn't big enough to have different topography or weather, the nature to move and migrate had never left them.

Stiles checked the dot that marked where the pack was last and measured how long it would take to get there. He started to make a list of all the things that he'd need to join a pack and fight werewolves, covering every possible base in case of the unexpected; you never knew when werewolves were involved. Stiles started to pack his moderately large overnight bag with the intention of needing to stay for multiple days. He checked off his list as he packed to make sure he had everything.

Stiles' List

Tennis ball (in case they wanted to play 'fetch')

Dog whistle (because humans cant howl and different whistle tone work just as well)

Clothes (t-shirts, underwear, socks, pants, jackets)

Tent (the packs lived in tents and not buildings)

Insect repellent (werewolves might be immune to insect bites but Stiles was a mosquito magnet)

His computer (he had all his files on werewolves; his own personal bestiary)

Puppy food (not for the werewolves of course, but he wasn't leaving Isaac behind; who would give him puppy cuddles?)

Stiles quickly wrote a note to his dad, stuck it the fridge with a banana magnet and picked up Isaac. He loaded the jeep with hi stuff, secured Isaac in the back with a seatbelt so he wouldn't hurt himself and double-checked the marked area on the map. He couldn't believe he was even thinking of doing this but if he didn't act now, he never would have another opportunity to help with the skills he'd been studying/learning all his life. He would never have another opportunity to make his dad proud of him and uphold his families'' honour.

As he drove, Stiles revised all the things he had learnt or been taught by his mum about werewolves since he was five years old. That was a good solid twelve years of researching them. Hopefully he'd have enough information to support him against the packs; friend or foe kind.

The trees merged together into solid walls as he drove towards a clearing that he highly guessed to be were the friendly pack was currently living. Hopefully the alpha pack hadn't already arrived before he even started and got a chance to help or worse, was killed. Suddenly, the hairs on his chest and arms rose on end. He could hear the deep rumblings of multiple growls that were coming from the left and right of the jeep as he drove. That continued sound meant that multiple wolves were following him. He couldn't decipher if it was good or bad werewolves stalking him and quickly debated the pros and cons of stopping the car or to keep driving and the chances of him getting to his destination alive. After deliberating his options, Stiles reasoned that it was better to stop running to try and escape what was chasing him. After all, if it really was werewolves, and not a mountain lion, it's never a good idea to run from a transformed, and possibly rabid, werewolf.

Stiles let the jeep slowly come to a stop, thinking that no sudden movements were the best course of action. He slowly exited the vehicle, posture relaxed and praying that Isaac would keep silent and that the pack wouldn't need to get all territorial over the presence of another canine.

"Hello?" Stiles called softly as he looked into the surrounding tree line for flashed of red, blue and gold. He was also hoping to not just see red, because that would be extremely bad for himself and Isaac. "Oh God, I'm in a horror movie and I'm about to die." Stiles jumped as he heard a deep vibrating growl come from in front of him. Out of the mist emerged a pair of luminous wolf eyes. A handsome man of about thirty-five years of age that looked like a vampire from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' strutted towards the younger man. Stiles quietly said to himself, "Well, someone likes to make an entrance."

The other man smiled as he neared Stiles, coming so close as to press the pedo-wolf button which set off alarms in Stiles' head as the man entered Stiles' very personal space.

"My name is Peter Hale. And you, my pet, are a funny little human." The stranger stated as he looked Stiles up and down, circling him closely as he did so. Stiles didn't care about the wolf's name, having titled him Pedo-Wolf, because of the way the man looked at him like 'the big bad wolf' and Stiles was 'little red riding hood'.

"Funny 'ha-ha', or funny bad?" Stiles asked to distract himself and the man studying him like a hawk, or wolf, enough so that no one could think to eat him.

"l think my alpha would like you. But maybe l should keep you for myself?" the still unidentified creeper asked rhetorically but was chastised by a warning growl from a voice deep in the woods.

"All new arrivals must be taken to the alpha first." A voice shouted as she, maybe an alpha-female or head beta, burst through the tree line, growled at Pedo-Wolf, tackled him to the ground and bit him on the back of the neck.

"Fine." Pedo-Wolf sighed as he was let go and caressed the side of Stiles' throat, right over his hammering pulse, which made Stiles shudder in disgust (which the weirdo totally liked) as he knew that a mark there would mean; claiming, mating or even death. "We'll deliver you to the Alpha." Stiles sighed as silently as he could as he was lead to his jeep, Pedo-Wolf clutching tightly to his right arm.


End file.
